Asperger's and the human equation

Katherine Rowlands

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When I’m alone, its mostly fine. I might be a little lonely, but I can play the guitar, or pretend to be anyone I want, sometimes I’m even an immortal half-Vulcan, half human hybrid named Gretta Lee, who used to be entirely human and then got kidnapped by a mad scientist who performed excruciating illegal experiments on her and now she roams the galaxy with a full-Vulcan who was raised by humans, his name is Delvok and he has crazy intense mood swings, Gretta’s the only person he likes, but it works because she’s a lesbian and is emotionally constipated due to her lack of faith in humanity…anyway, as I was saying. I can entertain myself quite easily on my own. But when I get into a public situation, I immediately start sweating buckets, my hands get shaky. Even though I might not actually be scared, at least consciously, I seem riddled with the symptoms of terror.

Its always the worst at choir. On Monday nights I have to sit in a room full of only girls for about two hours without a break. I find girls very frightening, no matter what age they are. I know, maybe that’s a bit weird when I am one, but let me explain:

Other girls, for the most part, dress nice. They do their hair…they wear makeup. Me, I wear the same old sweater every day, and my hair is usually just in a ponytail. I don’t wear makeup, my underwear of choice is boxer briefs, and most of my clothes are men’s, even my jeans. I feel very baggy, and on the spot when surrounded by women in tights, wearing bright flowy shirts and dresses, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.

They talk to each other about such simple little things, no aliens, no detectives. When they mention ‘Sherlock’ it’s to talk about Benedict Cumberbatch, a man I have no interest in outside of his role as my favorite fictional character ever. They know nothing of the original books, they don’t have an opinion on Superman and how his friendship with Batman correlates with the fact that the Caped Crusader was modeled off him in an attempt to equal the Man of Steel’s popularity, that’s why he’s always shorter than Soups, so that they can be different but have the same basic body type. They don’t know anything about the origins of Wonder Woman, and how she was based off a real person. They have no opinion on whether or not the new Star Trek should have blown up the planet Vulcan, nor are they upset about Leonard Nimoy’s recent demise. Everything is so subtle, they lie all the time. Me, if I don’t like your shoes I’m either going to say nothing, or I’m going to just be blunt and tell you that I think they’re highly impractical.

I’m left standing there pondering over these strange alien beings who seem to draw so much identity from their gender, their day to day routines, me, I don’t particularly feel like a girl, or a boy, a man or a woman, I’m just me. I feel like myself. When I told my fiancé that, I was scared that he wouldn’t want to be with me anymore, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just loves me for me.

I sometimes wonder why, why it is that I can’t just accept that no one is looking at me, and no one cares. I think it’s hard because, as dumb as this sounds, I’m always looking at everyone, all the time. I’m always thinking, deducing, I can’t help it, I’m constantly focused on every detail of everything and everyone around me, and I care quite deeply about the feelings and struggles of others. I can’t tune them out; I’m like a broken radio that can’t switch channels. I suppose it’s hard for me to imagine what it must be like to just be able to think about your own self and not worry about the person sitting beside you, or perhaps they do worry like I do, just less consciously or less obviously.

Anyway, just some food for thought, perhaps. I’m really struggling with school right now, between everything and all the crap in my head I’ve started having panic attacks again, and have been trying to think of ways to avert these awful feelings. It’s a two edged sword, so many new things have been happening, so many exciting changes, I’m happy about that, I’m happy to be moving forward with my life, but I’m also scared of new things, and with more people come more dynamics, more uncontrollable elements. I sometimes wonder if maybe I’m just not built to keep up with life like others are. It seems like such an impossible obstacle. I am terrible at math, and all I see before me is an endless infinity of human equations.

Courtesy of Aspergers on the Outside